


Wood on the Beach

by goingtothetardis



Series: A Series of Unfortunate Boners [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: And Rose knows what's going on, Awkward Boners, Beaches, Crack, Day At The Beach, F/M, Humor, Kinda, Not quite resolved sexual tension, Public erections, Sexual Tension, Speedos, The Doctor can't turn it off, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: The Doctor sees Rose in a bikini, and things get really hard for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caedmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/gifts).



> Before I do anything else, I fully blame Caedmon for this bit of writing. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry. Am I really sorry? Probably not. It's nice to pretend, at least. Right? HA. 
> 
> This is pure, 100% ridiculousness. Caedmon tagged me in [this](http://goingtothetardis.tumblr.com/post/151805153327/caedmonfaith-ao3tagoftheday-the-ao3-tag-of) post, and then I was also inspired by [this](http://whatwecanfic.tumblr.com/post/150637827232/my-1-favorite-fanon) post. 
> 
> It's also entirely unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes. (But many thanks to Jeeno and Crazygirlne for some rather entertaining discussions and pieces of advice on the title.)

The Doctor looks warily at his bed where a pinstriped speedo lies innocently on the cover. Is this really what the pretty boys wear in Rose’s time? He’d thought swimming fashion of this era included something more along the lines of actual shorts, but he might be off by a few years. He also knows swim fashion is different in various regions of the world, but he imagines that if the TARDIS put it out there, it must be acceptable for Maui. 

He shrugs and strips down. After pulling on the speedo, he takes a moment to inspect himself in the mirror. Used to his many layers, this look is rather… revealing… leaving nothing to the imagination, and he considers finding something else to change into. The TARDIS quickly assures him the look is appropriate and that he should hurry, because Rose is waiting for him in the console room. The Doctor hesitates a moment longer before pulling his suit back on over the speedo and leaving his room. 

When he enters the console room, Rose is lounging on the jumpseat picking at her nails. A huge beach bag filled with towels, bottles of water, and other beach necessities lays beside her. Next to the door are two reclining beach chairs and a large, multi-colored sun-umbrella covered in question marks. He frowns, momentarily distracted by the question marks he thought he'd long since discarded in the depths of the TARDIS, before focusing on Rose. 

Clearly ready for a day on the beach, she’s wearing a thin, gauzy white sarong over a vibrant, hot pink bikini. The see-through fabric does nothing to hide her curves underneath, and he swallows heavily, realizing that this is the most naked he’s ever seen Rose. It’s rather embarrassing how quickly a subtle heat begins to stir in his groin, and he immediately sends his body a message to redirect blood flow away from the area that will be rather prominently on display in a short period of time if he does nothing about it. 

The Doctor realizes Rose is staring at him. “What?” he asks.

“Doctor, we’re going to the _beach_.” She wrinkles her nose and looks him up and down. “I thought, I dunno, maybe you’d actually dress for it?”

“Oh, Rose Tyler, I’m dressed for it. Just you wait.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Alrigh’, whatever you say, Doctor.”

“I do say.” The Doctor strides to the console and sends his ship toward their destination. “Are you ready for Maui?”

“God, yes,” Rose says, happily bouncing up and down on the jumpseat. “I’ve been ready for a proper holiday for ages. It’s about time you take me somewhere with a beach.”

“Oi! If you recall, last week we–”

“ _Without_ an army waiting to ambush us the second we step out of the TARDIS,” Rose interjects.

The Doctor sighs. “Ah, well– That was merely a slight miscalculation…”

**& &&&&**

One fruity beverage in each hand (courtesy of the TARDIS, who is parked among the trees near the edge of the shore), the Doctor walks back to where he and Rose have positioned themselves for their day at the beach. “Rose, here’s your– _Oh._ ”

He can’t take his eyes off Rose. The sarong has been discarded on the sand, and she’s reclining peacefully on the chair. Her golden hair is spread around her head like a halo, and even with her oversized sunglasses, she looks like a goddess. The pleasant warmth returns to his groin, and before he knows it, he’s half hard and can’t figure out why his body isn’t obeying direct orders to redirect blood flow. 

_Blimey._ Maybe he should have demanded a pair of swim shorts, especially since, much to his consternation, most of the blokes on the beach around them are wearing shorts. It’s like this body is immune to his commands when faced with a (mostly) naked Rose Tyler, and despite his ingenuity with most things, he finds he’s often at a loss when it comes to impressing Rose and being what she needs. 

Upon hearing his voice, Rose tips her sunglasses onto the top of her head, peers at the Doctor, and frowns. “Doctor, I thought you said you were ready for the beach. Those don’t look like beach clothes.” She takes the drink he offers. “Ta for the drink, though.”

The Doctor feels himself harden further when she let’s out a highly distracting sound at the taste of her drink. “Oh, this is _gorgeous_. What is it? Banana mango?”

He nods, not trusting himself to say anything. 

“Of _course_ it’s banana.”

He squeaks in a very unmanly like way before setting his own drink down in the cup holder on his chair. He returns to her earlier comment. “And I _am_ ready for the beach, Rose. I merely wanted to get us drinks first.” With that, the Doctor begins undressing, frantically willing his body to _calm down_ before he takes his trousers off. He’s like a bloody _youth_ , all hot and bothered at the first sight of a pretty girl. Of course, this isn’t just any pretty girl. It’s Rose. 

Rose’s eyes linger on him as he undresses, and he tries to ignore her as he sheds his jacket, shirt, and shoes. Finally he stands and, with a quick glance at Rose, pulls his trousers down and steps out of them in one smooth motion. 

Rose chokes on her fruity drink. 

He stands before her practically naked, and he’s positive she can tell how _affected_ he is at the moment. Desperately wishing for a towel, his trousers, _anything_ to cover himself, he sits down awkwardly on his beach chair and leans over, resting his elbows on his knees, in an attempt to hide his erection. 

“Blimey, Doctor, you’re almost more blinding than the sun. Maybe we should go to the beach more often, especially in that,” Rose says, nodding at his choice of swim attire with a cheeky smile. “Get a bit of color on that skin of yours.”

He’s quite certain by now that the TARDIS tricked him into this ridiculous outfit (if one wants to call it that), and he clears his throat, aiming for some kind of nonchalance. “My skin is perfectly pigmented, thank you very much. And I’ll have you know, Time Lords don’t tan.” He continues his explanation of Gallifreyan biology for a few more minutes. Distraction and diversion are some of his best used tactics, and he’s not afraid to use them to make this moment less awkward. 

In the middle of his informative lecture, Rose hums and raises her glass to her lips and darts her tongue out to catch a droplet of water as it trails through the frost on the glass. He trails off, and his eyes – his traitorous eyes – follow her tongue as she chases the drop up to the rim of the glass before taking a sip of the orange colored drink. 

_Fuck._

He shifts uncomfortably on his chair and grabs his own drink as some form of distraction before noticing how Rose’s gaze falls to his (rapidly swelling) groin and then back to his eyes. 

A slow grin spreads across her face. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” He’s irrationally proud at how he manages to keep his voice level.

“Will you put sunscreen on my back? I can’t reach some bits. I’m not quite bendy enough.” Without giving him a chance to answer, she flops over onto her stomach and unties her bikini top strings. 

The Doctor swallows heavily (and no, he’s absolutely _not_ thinking about how bendy Rose is in other ways) and stands up to cross over to Rose’s chair. He sits cautiously on the edge and takes the tube of sunscreen from where it sticks out of Rose’s bag. Staring at the smooth expanse of her back, he takes a deep breath before squeezing the lotion onto her back. He writes a few words in the circular language of his people, words he knows he’ll never be able to verbally express to Rose, before erasing them with his hands as they slide easily over her back. 

Rose moans, clearly enjoying his ministrations, and the sound sends sparks of heat right back to the area of his anatomy he’s actively trying to forget about. Nothing he does is effective in diminishing this bloody hard-on he has – has had – since he first saw Rose in the console room over an hour ago. 

Finally, all corners of Rose’s back are protected from the sun, and after retying her bikini strings, he springs up and claps his hands. “I think it’s time for a swim. What do you say, Rose, eh? Last one to the water has to make dinner for a week?” 

He doesn't even give her a chance to answer before he's sprinting toward the water, the bulge in his speedo momentarily on display for all to see. His speedo is also rather uncomfortably tight at the moment, and he's hoping that hiding his rather prominent erection under water and distracting himself with other activities will keep his mind off how much he wants to ravish Rose right on the spot, tearing her silly bikini off her body and having his way with her. He huffs, cursing his so-called superior biology. 

The Doctor sighs in relief when his body hits the water, and once deep enough, he dives in, immersing himself under the clear ocean water. It’s refreshing, yes, but it does little to solve the pleasantly dull throb in his groin. Once again, he curses the TARDIS’s insistence on his swim attire for the day and the fact that he can’t seem to bloody control his own body. What kind of Time Lord is he?

At least now, he feels a bit more comfortable, not quite so on display, and he thanks the stars he’ll be able to hide his nether regions from Rose. The ocean provides many opportunities for distraction. 

After his upper half emerges from the water and he wipes the water away from his face, he turns to find Rose sprinting into the water after him. Her hair gleams under the sun as it flies out behind her, and he can’t help but watch in appreciation and the way her toned muscles move her body through the water… and the way her breasts bounce wonderfully as she runs.

_No._

He’s not allowed to think about Rose’s breasts. (His infernal erection begs to differ.)

Rose follows his lead and dives under the water, and for a moment he’s relieved. However, that feeling is short-lived when Rose rises from the water. The sun reflects off the droplets of water on her body making each one look like diamonds as they trail along her skin, down her neck, between her breasts… 

When he manages to finally tear his gaze from her body and connects his eyes with hers, she’s smirking at him with a knowing grin. Her own gaze falls below the water to where he’s straining in his speedo before dragging slowly back his body until she meets his eyes. Rose bites her lip and studies him with a calculated expression, eyes dark and hooded. 

The Doctor holds his breath. He knows she _knows_ , and despite the fact that they’re standing in the ocean in front of a beach full of strangers and that they’ve never before acted on the obvious chemistry between them, the air between them is thick with intent. 

Suddenly, Rose smiles – a deliberate sort of thing – and before he can do anything to prepare, she sends a wave of water toward him. He’s still spluttering in shock when she jumps on his back and presses her body against his. Rose wraps her legs around his hips so they’re resting _just_ above his groin, and part of him wishes her legs, feet, _anything_ would graze his cock to finally give him some blessed relief. 

But no. That’d be too easy. Rose is playing a game now.

Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and she tucks her head next to his and whispers in his ear. “I think you should wear this swim outfit more often, Doctor,” she says with a tiny nibble on his earlobe. With his name, she lowers her foot slightly and just barely grazes the tip of his cock. 

_Fuck_.

He jerks hard, the movement purely outside his control, and it’s strong enough to throw Rose off his back into the water. Letting out a gasp with her shriek of surprise, he spins around and hastily reaches out a hand to help pull her out of the water. She takes it, but gives him a sharp tug to pull him under with her. 

In the playful commotion, Rose’s hand finds purchase on his cock, and the Doctor fears he might come on the spot, having been in such a state of arousal for so long. He pops his head out of the water and groans loudly when Rose squeezes him firmly and rubs the palm of her hand against him a few times. 

“Rose,” he gasps before she pops her head out of the water in front of his. After wiping her eyes clear of water, she moves stealthily and latches onto him from the front. Only their heads are visible above the water, but below the surface, he grips Rose’s hips tightly as she presses herself tightly against him and rests her center on his cock. He closes his eyes and lets out a whimper when he feels her heat against him, and it’s all he can do to keep from rutting against Rose. 

Then Rose kisses him, her lips chastely brushing against his, before pulling away and diving back under the water. 

She resurfaces several meters away. “I’m going back to the TARDIS, Doctor. I think I’m getting a sunburn,” Rose calls out before winking at him. 

The Doctor stands in the water for a moment feeling more than slightly rejected and disappointed, and he’s only slightly relieved with the pressure in his groin starts to recede. He ponders Rose’s teasing actions. She’s not sunburned. How could she be sunburned? He put the sunscreen on her himse– Oh. _Oh._

The minx. 

And when he realizes Rose’s plans, he’s fully hard once more, and this time can’t even be half-arsed to care. 

“Rose! Rose, wait up! I’m coming with you!”

**& &&&&**

And so he did. 


End file.
